The Shore

Occisor the Wroots leader and Zäev the Pine Marten were called to the attention of Emperor Silvertung for a council of war. Queen Dragwa and her toads refused to come until just before the final battle.

"Well, when will we begin? We've already basically defeated them," stated Occisor.

Vafír pointed at the great mountain fortress. "You think we can take that easily? This is a great fortress that I have never seen the likes of before. 'Twill be hard to crack, and if you don't believe me ask all the others that have tried to take it! Ferahgo the Assassin, who ruled the south. Dead! Windflin Wildbrush, terror of the seas. Dead!" Zäev bit his lip at the mention of his defeated ancestor. Vafír continued, "Ungatt Trunn, ruler of great hordes that could make the land shake and the stars fall. DEAD! All dead!"

The other two nodded their heads solemnly. Zäev asked, "So we wait until the disease has spread across the mountain?"

"Aye."

Occisor stroked his long goatee. "What if we tunnel–"

"Ferrahgo the Assassin."

"What if we surround the mountain, lure them–"

"Ripfang."

"Didn't Ripfang kill the badger lord though? And I mean, if you look at it another way, he technically won the fight. Yes, he himself died, but his crew didn't."

"And the few survivors were killed by the remaining hares on the mountain. Which was four! And two of them were hardly out of infancy!"

"They're noble beasts. Maybe we can get them to surrender to save the lives of the young-"

"Swartt Sixclaw."

"Bah! You know yer history, don't ye."

Occisor couldn't see it, but the fox grinned from the side of his mouth. "And it may save our lives. Zaev, how goes the trenches?"

"Good, sire. We've virtually surrounded the mountain with them, and we're working on trench from here to the swamps, so the toads and lizards can travel here in the trench's shade."

"Brilliant! Occisor, how as the Wroots been doing?"

"I have them scaling around the mountain, so if a single hare comes out they'll be killed instantly. I had some scouts sneak around through the crater, those that've come back informed me that the inhabitants have been hiding in their dorms, because of the disease, though many are still getting sick and some are dying."

"Good, good. Soon the mountain will fall!"

ooooooooooooo

Ergo the hermit gave a groan of despair as he smelled smoke. Skyflyer soared up and landed on his shoulder, whispering in his air.

The mole's groan deepened. His poor hut was burning to the ground.

"Burr, sandy blizzards. They carn't leave moi fam'ly alone, ever since moi ancestor, Ole Bungwen 'e 'Ermit."

Knowing what he had to do, the mole ran the opposite direction. Moles have never been known for great speed, but Ergo was spurred on by the sound of lizards chasing behind him.

"Yah! We are coming!"

Ergo ran harder, gasping for air. He just had to reach the hill where Bungwen lived, there he would be safe. But the lizards were gaining. Turning to the side, the lizards skidded forward, blowing sand in the air.

One lizard picked up a stone and flung. Ergo winced in pain as he stumbled and fell to the ground, Skyflyer leaping up and flying away. The last sight he saw before he lost consciousness was four lizards grinning over him, holding stones.

ooooooooooooo

Queen Dragwa stretched her pudgy legs and leaped across the swamp, landing with a splash in the muddy water. Feeling the ground, she frowned in disgust as she found the corpse of a rat who didn't watch his step and sunk. Shrugging, she swam around, catching a few flies on her meaty tongue.

Four lizards came up to her, holding an unconscious mole.

"Queen!" called one. "What would ye like uzz to do wid dis mole?"

The queen shrugged. "Rrrreb! Mebbe Silvertung wants 'im! Catch anyt'ink else?"

"Almost cot a birdy but it flew away."

Dragwa frowned. "Crroak! Well, wot're yew still 'ere fer? Go tie 'im up in a Blankethouse one of dose vermin brought!"

The lizards nodded and ran off to a tent. Dragwa sighed. Hopping away she looked to the sides and sunk herself under a specific area in the swamp.

She came out of the sludge deep underground, a cavern dug out by ancient toad artisans. A few other toads were in here, coming through the muddy secret passage. Toadplace, as they called it, was beautifully constructed. With damp, humid air, perfectly carved walls laced with Owado, gold and silver. The ground was covered with a bit of mud laced with topical for the feet. The toad queen let out a sigh of contention as her webbed feet sunk into the sludge.

Hopping to her quarters, she observed the portraits of past rulers, all the way to Crendo the Architect. The noble toad was wearing a pair of spectacles and a green tunic. The ruler just before her, her father, King Wargum, was fat, mean-faced, and resembled Dragwa very similarly.

Dragwa sighed. Her parents were gone now, to the quiet swamps. The toad queen looked sadly at their portraits. Shaking her bulbous head she hopped away to the most sacred room of the toads. The deepest down you could go was a massive, clean, clear underground pond. Insects and worms crawled around the cave ceiling, every so often falling down into the water and disappearing. In the water were the things precious to the toad clan, the young tadpoles. In the clear water it was easy to make them out, swimming happily.

One of her many siblings (they assumed), her brother called Migwod, hopped next to her, "Crrrrrroik! Queen, wot're ye doin'?"

"Rrreb. Thinkin'."

"Hmm... Wot woz it dat pa sed?"

"Never go to the shore?"

"No, da wun about other species."

"Crrroak! Ah. 'E said all bugs taste good."

"NO! Rrrreb! The wun 'bout mammals!"

"Ah," the ditzy, pompous queen understood. "'E sed ne'er trus' 'em! 'Speshally foxes. 'E sed dat ole Crendo used tuh be great, bud 'e trusted a fox and became not-great."

"Rrrreb! Yes, and..."

"We shoodent trus' foxes. I know, I've ne'er e'en spoken to a fox, crrroak!"

"Bah! Yer allied with a fox!"

The color drained from Dragwa's face. "Oh Budzees! I dot we were allowed tuh trus' white foxes dat were Bulgums!"

"Rrrreb! Pa said dat Crendo wuz tricked by a whitefox bulgum, 'amember?"

The remaining color in Dragwa's face drained. "Yer right! We need to kill dat whitefox bulgum, Crrrroik!"

Salamandastron

Lord Brawblade Wildstripe of Salamandastron strode proudly out of the great mountain. Behind him were his depleted Long Patrol, headed by Brigadier Bristlefur, all were shooting hate-laden glares at the horde of Silvertung. Then came the otters of the Rogue Crew, headed by Thorkrig Axehound, who's eyes widened at the sight of the slaves who were at spearpoint by the vermin. His daughter Verane, she had her knee split off! How could she fight again? Her and Marko's eyes were bloodshot and dry with tears.

Then came Hurqu, holding his battleaxe high with one gripper, followed by Brockhammer. The vermin were smirking through the entire exit of the mountain, but their smiles faltered at the site of another great badger, this one holding a great hammer that looked like it could squash the vermin as if you would squash a fly.

Amamo and Aar came next, clad in full armor. Aar had a claymore, while Amamo held his katana and stood next to the only other one who shared his weapon choice, the young hare Alfar. Findelo came, brandishing and elegant rapier, and Anera had a sling. Last came Tharius, proudly holding Martin's sword.

Vafir's eyes widened at the sight of the young squirrel. Tharius grinned at the fox, then lowered the sword at him, muttering, "You will pay."

Vafir, who had mastered lip-reading long ago nodded at the squirrel, his malicious grin matching the prince's.

The fox's attention was diverted by the whump of Brawblade's great sword hitting the sand right in front of the emperor.

"Silvertung, you have threatened my mountain. You and your scum come here to take over. But know that the great Salamandastron will not fall!"

"Today," said Silvertung calmly.

Brawblade looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the mountain will not fall today. Nor tomorrow. Nor the day after that. But by the end of the seventh day, I will be ruler of Salamandastron, you're charred remains will be thrown to sea, and your subjects will be my slaves. I promise you this."

Brawblade growled. The massive badger stood tall, dwarfing the fox. "I could slay you now."

"And give away your honor?" the Emperor indicated his empty scabbard. "I am unarmed. And know that you are surrounded and your subjects will be slaughtered."

The badger growled again. "Fox! You will regret this! You will die!"

"Tut-tut. You're losing your head, dear Badger Lord. Your food stores are falling. The mountain is surrounded. When you return, any of your subjects that leaves will be killed by the Wroots. You are outnumbered and a disease is taking your mountain. I promise you, you will lose this war."

Brawblade looked down at Vafir. There was no pity or mercy in the violet eyes of the fox, just cold hard truth. The fox grinned at him.

"Now, I give you five-score seconds to get in the mountain, starting... now."

The badger lord and his subjects hastily retreated back into the fortress. A young hare tripped and fell on a rock in the mad scramble, and nobody noticed him as the gates closed.

"Four... three... two...one," Vafir finished his countdown and held a white paw in the air.

Nearly forty arrows flew true. The crawling young hare resembled a pincushion by the time the fox emperor put his paw down.